


Sonnet in Reverse

by colberry



Category: Jrock, the GazettE
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, ruki is like an onion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruki is in love with paradox.  He likes things that come in threes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonnet in Reverse

He's a twisted little soul. Never quite right and a little charred. Scars from Daddy's scathing rebuttals of "no good" and "how-can-you-do-this-to- _me_ " are still carved into his ribs. He pretends they don't throb just the slightest amount every time he inhales. Every time he screams into the mic, each gulp of air that lets him die again and again in those lyrics. He can't help but thrive on that taste of burnt passion between his lips, lets his tongue carve jagged canyons into each crisped phrase and wriggling notion.

Ruki is in love with paradox. He likes things that come in threes. He's not afraid of contradiction. And he has a hard time accepting Fate.

Because nothing was supposed to touch _this_.

It's all he has.

Scrawls of lyrics and little sketches of _how-do-you-do_ fill up the blank margins of management memos. Pencil scratches and pen leaks sprawl across every monochrome command. Ruki needs color. And vibrancy. And something that has nothing to do with his past, because doesn't everyone try and run away and _separate-forever_ from that?

Isn't that why he rips out the dreads, bleaches the roots until they scream for _air-air-please_ , irons out every crimp and then curls each fiber until his teeth no longer gnash together and no longer do those nights shake apart?

Ruki thrives in chaos -- a certain sort of tumult that leaves his lungs stuttering and toes slipping beneath friction -- but will always desire order. Because every homespun lyric is methodically sought out. It's the right sort of inspiration that creates the wrinkle in his brow and shushes the world when it attempts to break the perfect silence of _this moment_.

Where everything finally falls into place.


End file.
